Whole Again (Hometown Hero's Book 1) Page 3

  John Lawrence. Her John.

  Again.

  Her heart skipped a beat. Her gaze was drawn to his ass like a magnet, and it took her a moment to realize someone else was there. He stood outside an apartment near hers talking to an attractive redhead. They laughed and smiled. He turned the key in the lock and gestured her inside.

  Her stomach dropped, and she ducked back behind the building before he saw her. Her hands covered her belly.

  They looked awfully cozy. And did this mean he lived in the same building as she did? She had seen a U-Haul here the other day. Wouldn’t that figure? Wasn’t that her rotten luck?

  Vicki heard his sinful voice as he said, “Okay, let’s go inside. We can get drinks and talk.”

  John and his floozy slipped into apartment 1-A. She was 2-B. Awesome. She was his upstairs neighbor. Not directly above him, but close. How did stuff like this happen to her? Wasn’t she a nice girl?

  Any lingering euphoria she’d experienced vanished. Drinks, with the redhead. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so special. She was so stupid, getting her hopes up like that. All men were pigs. Hadn’t David already taught her that? When would she learn? Her head thumped against the brick wall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why was she attracted to shitheads? Why?

  Tears blurred her vision, and she dashed them away before marching to her door after giving John’s a good ol’ glaring as she passed.

  ****

  “So what’s with the drama, Sara?” John said as soon as the door closed behind him.

  “Not drama, but there’s something you should know. You’re going to figure it out eventually.”

  And, nothing . . . Her words stopped.

  John proceeded to the couch and slouched back. “And that is?”

  “I was pregnant with Brae’s baby after we broke up.” Her words came out in a frenzied rush, but the words baby and pregnant stuck.

  He shot straight up. “W-wait. What? Repeat that and slow down.”

  “I was pregnant when Brae broke up with me. I had a little girl.” Sara sat on an adjacent cushion and twisted her hands.

  John turned to face her. “Holy shit! Does Brae know? I am pretty freaking sure Brae does not know. He would have said something, and wait, that was over three years ago. Three years. What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  This was nuts. Brae was going to flip. He’d never wanted to break up in the first place. He’d thought by pushing her away she would realize how much he meant to her and come running back to him. That hadn’t happened. And now John knew why.

  Sara vaulted up and paced in front of him, throwing her hands in the air. “How could I tell you? You’re his best friend. And he broke up with me. Told me I needed to start dating other guys, and he would start dating other girls. Said I needed to experience the ‘real world.’” She made air quotes. “How did we know what we had was special? Well, I fucking knew, and he still left me. I wasn’t going to drag him back and make him marry me because of the baby. Because you know that is what he would have done. He didn’t want me anymore. I couldn’t do that to either of us.”

  That was true and false at the same time. John knew how Brae felt about her. Brae had told him often enough. She was his only. How did she not realize that?

  “But Jesus, Sara, a baby? What did you do? How did you take care of a baby? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped. I would have sent money, something. I’d have come home sooner.” His voice dropped. He was her friend, too.

  “I know you would have helped. But you had all those bills from your mom being sick. It’s why you went into the marines in the first place. I couldn’t take your money. Plus, Flick and his family took care of me. I’d been working at that real estate office as a temp. But two years ago, I became an agent myself. I’m doing pretty well now, if I do say so myself. I’m still at home, of course. My mom watches Mina during the day.” She paused and brushed back her hair. “That’s her name, Mina.”

  John slouched back again, stunned. Mina. “I like it. Reminds me of Dracula.”

  Sara rolled her eyes, sank next to John on the couch, and grabbed a pillow. “Really? That’s all you could think of?”

  John palmed his eyes. “About the name? Yes, I like it. But Jesus, Sara. Brae is going to flip when he finds out though. You know that.”

  Sara reached out and grabbed his hand. “Please don’t tell him. When he comes back, then he will know. Until then, please, let me tell him on my own. Okay?”

  John dropped his gaze to their fingers. “Uh, I don’t know, Sara. This is big.”

  She squeezed until her knuckles turned white. “Please, John, you’re my friend, too.”

  Well, now she would say that. But. Dude. Wow. “You promise you’ll tell him as soon as he arrives?”

  “Yes, I promise, boss man.”

  He grinned at the old nickname and then sighed in resignation. “Okay then, your funeral. What does she look like? I always thought the two of you would make adorable babies.”

  Sara smiled and pulled a picture from her purse. A mischievous three-year-old with dark brown hair and distinctive blue-green eyes stared back at him. She’d crammed a piece of chocolate in her mouth, and the remains caked her face.

  He couldn’t help but smile. “I knew it. She is officially adorable.”

  “I know.” Sara’s fingers brushed the photo. “She’s the best of both of us.”

  But still. “Brae is going to flip.”

  Sara sighed and put the picture away. “You already said that.”

  “And I’m repeating it for emphasis.” John side-hugged her. “I hope you know what you’re doing, bud.” Then he stood up and proceeded to the kitchen for beer. “I have some news, too, by the way. I have a date this weekend with Vicki Masterson.” He couldn’t keep the smug smile out of his voice. He opened the fridge, picked up the bottles, and popped the lids on the way back to the counter.

  “Vicki, eh? The prom queen—that one?” Sara sank back into the couch and glanced around the room after John handed her a bottle.

  “One and the same.”

  She took a sip. “When?”

  “I don’t know. I have to text her.”

  “Well. Do it. Then we start working.” She rubbed her hands together ominously, at least to John’s eyes.

  ****

  Vicki slammed the door to her apartment. A picture frame slid off the wall and shattered on the ground. Oh, wasn’t that peachy? The kitten’s head rose from atop the velvet pillows on the couch, but her eyes drifted closed soon after.

  Vicki swore and crept through the remains to the kitchen to get the dustbin. A minute later, the hallway was carnage free. But the desire to do harm rode Vicki hard. Why was she so upset anyway? He was a grown-ass man. He could flirt with whomever he wanted. He could date two women at once. It was only drinks, right? Vicki’s gut churned.

  Asshole.

  She tossed back a glass of wine and lounged on her couch contemplating revenge. Her phone dinged.

  Hi, Vicki. This is John. I wanted to see if you would be up for drinks tomorrow night? Maybe hit the Hanger?

  That jerk. Making time with one girl then texting another while she was still there! Well, fine. Take this.

  Sorry, forgot about a wedding this weekend. Leaving tonight. Won’t be able to do drinks.

  So there. Her shoulders slumped as she dropped her phone onto the table. She was so bad at this. Innate manners limited her words.

  Oh. Well, that’s disappointing. I’d hoped to see you again. Another time then.

  Yes, another time. =P.

  She even added an emoji. Look at her being all nice. As if she would do drinks with him. She knew what men like him were like. Too well. She’d married one, and look what that got her.

  The day she came upon David with his little friend flashed through her mind, the second time in as many days.

  Vicki had gotten off early to surprise him with his favorite dinner. Calvin Harris played on the radio, and she could
n’t help but drive faster. The sun was shining, the flowers blooming, and not a cloud in the sky. What a beautiful day. Until she got home and saw an unfamiliar car parked behind David’s, who for that matter should not have been home.

  Her gut flipped, but she ignored it and got out of her car with measured steps. The front door loomed in front of her. She put her key in the lock and turned it quietly. With a slow movement, she pushed open the door and slipped off her pumps. She tiptoed into the house. She remembered shivering and not just from the cool hardwood flooring beneath her feet.

  David’s coat hung on the rack in the foyer. A feminine coat hung next to his, along with a pretty floral scarf identical to the one he’d gotten her for her birthday from Saks. A giggle drifted down the stairs.

  No, she knew what men were like. All men were assholes. Screw David and screw John.

  Four

  John woke up feeling sore and stiff. Too much unpacking for his old bones. But with Sara’s and later his mother’s combined prompting, he’d gotten every single, solitary box unloaded. If it had been up to him, he’d have unpacked the toiletries and left it at that for a while. The furniture was in place, but no, he had to have everything out and in its place. Sara had even made him go out and buy art, for a feminine touch. Why the hell did he need a feminine touch? His conversation with Vicki crossed his mind, and his mouth turned down. Not like any woman lived here or would see it anytime soon.

  He should have called, but he’d been afraid he’d stutter. She’d always done that to him—twisted him up. So he texted, and now he didn’t know what to think. Was she teasing him? Did she know about his crush when they were young and decided to mess with his mind? Or had she truly forgotten her other plans. Maybe he should call and get an invite to this wedding, unless she was some other guy’s date. John’s jaw clenched at the thought of Vicki with another man. No way he’d let that happen. Not that he had much of a choice. He unclenched his hands and took a deep breath before sitting up and stretching.

  Maybe he needed a run. That usually cleared his head. He’d worked hard to rehab himself to the point where he could do a light jog. Not a full marathon, but enough to keep him in shape with that and the weights. He wasn’t a fucking invalid, no matter what anyone thought.

  After getting dressed, he stepped outside to warm up. As he was stretching, he looked up to see Vicki descending the steps from an apartment above. He knew it was her from the zing of lust that shot through him at the sight of her long legs through the stairs that led away from his apartment toward the courtyard. She wore a white silk blouse and dark skirt, hair up in a messy bun, sexy tendrils of hair brushing the back of her neck. Her shoes were in her hands, and she crouched in the classic walk of shame pose.

  Well, how about that? John’s gut tensed, his jaw grinding. He straightened from his stretch and spoke. His words could have etched glass. “Hello, Vicki.”

  ****

  Vicki hurried out the door. She’d deliberately kept her shoes off, just in case, and skulked. Yes, she’d been reduced to skulking to flee her own home. John couldn’t be up this early. Not if he banged that bimbo all night. Not that she’d checked to see if the girl had left that often. She still had her pride. She peeked over the edge of the landing and saw nothing before tiptoeing down the steps.

  John’s voice rang out behind her. “Hello, Vicki.”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Vicki turned with a forced smile and perched on the stairs. “John, fancy meeting you here.”

  John stood by his door in old gray sweats that hugged his muscular thighs and a wife beater that had seen better days and still managed to look hot. So unfair.

  “You don’t look surprised,” he said.

  Vicki put a hand on the railing and took a tentative step down and away. “Well, I am.”

  John’s arms crossed over his chest, pulling his tank tight, highlighting his luscious biceps. “What’s up? Visiting your boyfriend? Doing the night after walk?”

  What? He thought she was . . .Vicki’s chest puffed out. That asshole. “I will have you know I live here, mister.”

  John’s voice grew silky as he stepped closer. “But I thought you were going to a wedding this weekend. Leaving last night?”

  Vicki shoved a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Um. I’m heading there now. I was too tired last night to go, so I’m heading out first thing. So, uh, see you later?” Vicki turned and prayed he didn’t call her bluff. But of course, he did.

  “If you didn’t want to go for drinks, you could have just told me. Why string me along?” His words came out harsh. He sounded pissed off. And he had no right to be. She ground her teeth. He wanted to start this here? She’d had a lifetime of sucking things up so as to not make things awkward for the family. Screw that. He wanted to know why she didn’t tell him she didn’t want to go for drinks. Oh, she’d tell him all right.

  “I don’t like two-timers.” So there. It had sounded much worse in her head. More girl powery.

  John’s eyebrows winged up. “Two-timers? Are you accusing me of something? If I was dating anyone else, I sure wouldn’t agree to have drinks with you. I’m not like that. Not so sure about the guys you’ve dated.”

  “Oh, yeah, right, say that to Little Miss Thing you had here last night.” Her words tinged the air green.

  “Little Miss . . .” He blinked, and a smile grew on his face. “Oh, you mean Sara. She came to force me to unpack last night. You remember Sara from high school. You two used to be tight in elementary school.”

  “Sara Beaumont? That was Sara?” Vicki remembered her. Thank God she had done something with her hair. And, well . . . “She’s one of your oldest friends, right?” A flush crept up Vicki’s face with the realization of how dumb she’d acted.

  “Yeah, Sara. One of my oldest friends. Did you think me and her?” John laughed. “Brae would kick my ass. He’s been gone on her for ages. You don’t poach your friend’s exes. It’s not done in the marines.”

  Her ears burned. She couldn’t seem to keep her foot out of her mouth around him. It was not fair. “Oh, well, sorry about that, I, um, well, I thought. You know. Anyway. Sorry. I . . .” She backed down the steps and bolted toward the parking lot.

  John followed with a predatory look in his eyes. “Where are you going? We aren’t done talking yet.” He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Unless you are going to the ‘wedding’?” He added air quotes around the last word.

  “Um . . . oh well, I was going to go see my grandmother. We were going to head to lunch. I, um, decided to skip the wedding.” She backed up and nearly fell off the curb by her car. Wow, graceful she was not.

  John reached out and tucked her against his chest. “Whoa there, Vicki. Be careful now.”

  He’d pulled her close enough to kiss. Her heart stuttered at the feeling of his arms around her. She kept her eyes down and stared at his Adam’s apple. He swallowed. She followed the motion up. Her eyes met his. And her breath went all wonky on her. Why was the air getting thinner? His eyes did that to her. Stole all her reason. His mouth was only an inch or so above hers. Huh.

  John ran his hand down the side of her face. The movement almost seemed tentative, the touch soft. “You all right?”

  Vicki gazed up at his face. Her hand covered his on her cheek. She blinked once at the words. “Yes.” The words came out breathy.

  The corner of John’s mouth tipped up. He shifted against her, tugging her closer. “You sure you don’t need any first aid? I know mouth to mouth.”

  Vicki blinked and blinked again before biting the bottom of her lip; a delighted smile spread across her face. “Did you really just say that?”

  John closed his eyes. Vicki watched his lips move. She almost fancied that he mouthed dumb ass. “Yeah, sorry about that. That was pretty lame. It kind of slipped out. Something my buddies and I used to do. We’d practice cheesy pickup lines.”

  Vicki laughed. “Well, I kind of liked it.”

  His eyes opened.
The other corner of his mouth crept up to join the first side. “Yeah? I have tons more where that came from. Trust me. Mr. Smooth, that’s me.” He rolled his eyes at the words.

  Vicki put her hand on his chest and rubbed it lightly. “Okay. Lay it on me?”

  John blinked; then his smiled ratcheted up more.

  Her cheeks burned at her audacity. “I meant, uh, the pickup lines. Tell me more.” Amazing butterflies danced in her tummy at the thought.

  John’s hands smoothed down her sides and came to rest on her hips. “Hmm, well, want me to list them in order of success?”

  Vicki’s eyes narrowed. “Success, eh?”

  John leaned his forehead against hers. “Yeah. They all have about the same zero percent success rate for me. You’re the only one they have appeared to work on.”

  Vicki’s breath caught; his lips were so close, now only a millimeter away. She smelled the coffee he had for breakfast and the hint of aftershave. Mmm, Cool Water, her favorite. It got harder to focus on the words but . . . “Who said they were working?”

  “Ouch, touché.” He shifted so her hands pressed flat against his chest and his mouth was even closer. She felt the heat of his breath as he exhaled.

  Her fingers curled on his pecs, her fingers grazing his nipple. “Seriously though, I want to hear these lines. Tell me.”

  John shivered under her fingertips. “For reals?”

  A grin tugged at her lips. She could get used to her effect on this man. “Yes. For reals. Come on, slick.”

  “Well, okay, you asked for it.” John cleared his throat and then tilted his head to give her what she could only assume was his smoldering look. His eyelashes dropped, veiling the dark brown of his eyes, drawing her in. “Do you know karate? Because your body is really kicking.”

  Vicki’s jaw dropped, and laughter spilled out. She thumped his chest. “More.”

  He smiled, a slight tip of his lips, eyes dancing. “Your body’s name must be Visa because it’s everywhere I want to be.”